Rage Deeper Than Love
by GermanBros24
Summary: Ludwig was content to be the lesser brother. He was happy to live in Gilbert's great empires shadow. Then after WWI, that changed. Ludwig learned small was weak, and the weak are bullied courtesy of the Allies. His brother stood idle and watched the Allies rob him with a 'treaty'. Never again would that happen. He will be strong. He will be great. The world will fall to its knees
1. Chapter 1

**new story! Dark WWII story with mostly Ludwig and Gil. Should be regularly updated.**

**I don't own Hetalia **

Chapter 1

1945

There are two kinds of anger; dry and wet. Wet anger is when you cry, when so many things go wrong and you feel like nothing will ever be right again. Wet anger is when you sob brokenly and look weak and defeated, and knowing you look like that makes you even angrier but there is just nothing you can do. Nothing you can do because you just care so much.

Dry anger is worse. It is when you are so angry at everything you cannot fix. Dry anger is when your jaw is set hard, eyes and face are stone cold. It's when you have just dealt with so much bullshit that you can't feel upset anymore. You have no tears to spare because you are so done, you have given up.

Years ago when he was younger Ludwig would have been crying. He would have been so utterly upset he would cry until his big brother came and hugged him. He would hate the fact he was crying as a teenager and needed a hug, but he couldn't help it. He cared still.

But now, standing in his dirty, and torn black uniform, bleeding from a bullet wound in his stomach all Ludwig could do was raise the Luger to his temple and stare stoically at the ruins of Berlin before him, face impassive as stone. He would not cry for the big brother he wanted. He would not call out for the man he had tried to be better than. Ludwig had failed. He was not great. He did not bring the world to its knees. His empire did not surpass his brothers. His Reich had not lasted even close to a thousand years. The war was over. Over again and he had lost. Lost again and this time, he just didn't care.

-1935-

Ludwig was sitting in his office, staring blankly at the sheets of rain pounding at his window. He had a massive pile of papers in front of him, though he had lost all will to go through them. It was the same every day. Notices of a deeper debt. Angry letters from citizens. Pleas for help, demands for money from other nations. Every day there was and more. The pile grew nearly as fast as his despair.

He sighed and leaned back and tossed his pen at the desk. Why was he here? He couldn't fix any of these issues. His country was a wreck with no money. The land was war torn, no one had money. The people of Germany barely had land to live on, yet alone farm and survive on.

Yet all the Allies wanted was their money. Money demanded by a treaty he never signed, as a penalty of a war he did not start. His scowl just deepened as he thought about the Great War.

Gilbert had tried his hardest to hold him together. Ludwig loved his elder brother, the great and mighty Prussia. As a boy he was happy to hide at his brothers coat tails. As a teenager he depended strongly on his brother for protection and guidance. When he finally became a unified nation, Gil handed over a lot of responsibility. Gil handed him a nation to lead.

He failed miserably at colonizing. England already owned most of the globe anyway. Gil didn't have colonies either, so Ludwig didn't mind not having them. He made a few allies, Austria was his closest one. Gilbert had taught him about the power of friends and leadership. He wanted to mirror the great Prussian empire. But he was happy being just that; a reflection of his brothers greatness.

Then as the Balkan powder keg exploded and Austria's arch duke was killed, Ludwig did what he was supposed to do as an ally. He declared war, and he fought hard. Gil helped him a little, but this was in the end his first war.

And needless to say, his first efforts were far from perfect. Yet, his first war did not end in a defeat. It wasn't even close to that. A truce was called. A cease fire, by both sides.

Last Ludwig checked, a stale mate was not a loss. But the bigger nations, the stronger nations, they took it as so. They took his stale mate as a loss, met in Versailles, and made a treaty.

A 'treaty', Ludwig sneered. Last he checked, both sides were supposed to sign that too. He had no say, so the Allies stole away land, demanded he eradicated his army, and demanded money. They told him he couldn't have a standing army, they told him Rhineland was a DMZ and belonged to France. They demanded billions in reparations. Their nations were broke too, so was his, but yet he had to pay them instead of fixing himself.

Because he had lost, with a stalemate.

Ludwig had came away from the Great War with several things. He had learned that the bigger you were, the stronger you were, the more you could steal without repercussions. He learned that if he wanted, he could bully around little nations and take what he pleased.

Most importantly, he learned the Allies could not be trusted.

And his own brother could not be either. The Allies did not bully Gil. They didn't take his land or demand money. They left him alone, because he was big and strong. He was formidable. He was the great empire that Napoleon avoided in battle. His big brother did not protect him. His big brother didn't stand up for him. His big brother watched as he was knocked to the dirt and stepped on.

And how could Ludwig ever forgive that, when Gil had promised to always take care of him? Ludwig had taken one other thing from the war. A hate stronger than love. A rage deeper than blood. A desire for revenge more powerful than a bond of brothers. One day the world would pay for trampling on him. One day, his own dear brother would pay for ignoring his cries of help and not looking as he was harassed.

One day, the corrupt world would fall and he, a noble man who knew the pain of being knocked down, would govern it fairly. He would control the globe. He would be greater than his brother. Greater than the Allies put together, and he would keep their greedy hands tied. He would be strong, he would strike fear into the evil, and demand respect from all. The overshadowed, forgotten, smaller Bielschdmit, would for once stand tall. He would bask in the glory of power and victory. He would be noticed, and never again would he live in his brother's shadow.

A knock at the door brought Ludwig out of his sour thoughts and he looked towards the sound.

"Come in." he was surprised how tired his own voice sounded.

It was one of his assistants. The boy was thin, they all were. He was young, maybe a boy of sixteen. His hair was dirty and stringy, and his face was lean and haunted. A grey uniform barely clung to his bony frame.

"I have some more letters and telegrams sir." the boy said, his head respectfully inclined.

Ludwig walked over and took the papers from him and looked down at him. "Go home." The boy nodded and walked off, and he closed his office door again.

Ludwig looked back out the window. Night had fallen, but the rain still poured. He turned his office light on and looked disdainfully back at the papers on his desk. His eyes then wandered up to the map on his wall. An updated map of the world, with his chopped up little nation.

He didn't choose that map. The Allies thought Ludwig should have it. As a reminder he had lost.

He was tired and irritable, and it didn't take much to set him off these days. Compounded with his dark thoughts a sudden stroke of rage overcame him and he threw his new papers at the wall. With a deep bellow he flipped over his desk, shouting in rage and ripping the map off the wall as well with a great heave. The thin paper shredded easily and in fury he hit the wall with his fist, making an indent.

Enough was enough. Every man had a breaking point and Ludwig had found his.

_Screw the treaty_, he thought.

He couldn't have an army? Fine, he would build and train a 'work force'.

Rhineland isn't his? For now it isn't.

He owed millions of dollars? Not anymore.

The Allies ruled the world? Not for long.

He loved and looked up to his big brother? He had no brother.

**Thanks for reading. If you want more completed German brother stories check out my other works!**

**Please follow favorite and review! Update to come soon **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2! Note that some things are historically accurate while others are just made up for the story.**

**and note that i a- dont own hetalia**

**and b- do not believe or support in the nazi party. **

**so with that, please enjoy!**

Chapter 2

Gilbert was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He might not have had the same severe problems that Ludwig had from the war, but he still suffered. He hadn't eaten in…a few days now. He had made sure Ludwig at least ate a little bit when he returned home late. As bitter as the younger Bielschdmit was, Gil really did still love his brother. He didn't know how angry the blond truly was.

It was true, Gil was friends with both England and France.

It was true, Gil had an impressive fighting force and empire.

It was again true, that Gil did not help Ludwig much after the war.

And it was even truer, nothing broke the albino's heart like seeing his little brother struggling to fix a war torn country with the Allies breathing down his neck.

Yet, Gil did nothing. He could, but he didn't. When he helped unify the German kingdoms and make one Germany, he gave Ludwig a lot of responsibility. He gave Ludwig a country and all the pain and stress that came with it. His little brother needed to learn how to cope with wars, both lost and won. And that's what he was doing, watching Ludwig learn.

Maybe that made him and awful brother. Maybe that made him cruel and neglectful, but still, in the end, he loved his little brother.

He loved that little blond boy he raised and he would see him through this.

Little did Gil know just how polar he and Ludwig felt about each other these days.

Ludwig on the other hand, was quite busy. Ever since his little blow up in his office, things had changed.

He met with friends and close advisors, all on his own he built secret forces. Brown shirts to slip into the Weimar Republic and oust the other parties, so his new one would take over. He started the National Socialist German Workers Party, he lead it and appointed his close and trusted colleagues, people who would blindly follow him anywhere, who didn't have enough of a backbone to stand up to him.

He would crumble the Allies puppet government from inside and take it over. He would run it with the Nazi party. With that under way, he turned to important manners.

He created thousands of jobs, breaking more rules and allowing the steel workers to go back to their factories and build ships and planes. He had auto workers go back and start assembling army trucks and tanks. Gunsmiths made rifles and handguns by the hundreds. Bullets, bombs, missiles, grenades, and mortars were made and packaged in government buildings he had managed to take over.

Tailors started to make uniforms, a grey color. Cobblers pieced together leather boots.

Ludwig kept paying his debts slowly to the Allies, so they wouldn't come and pop in on his country. He and his party members had a massive campaign, showing off all the jobs they had created.

Democratically, the Nazi Party stormed and dominated the government with now, virtually no competition.

Ludwig had rallies where he spoke to the people. At first there were very few who came to see. Yet as his name grew known and popular, and the party grew in size and power, the entire city it seemed would come to his rallies.

And by that new popularity, Ludwig managed to get hundreds of thousands of German men to join him and his 'work force.'

It took three years for Ludwig to do all of this. By this point of time, Gil was getting concerned a little. He saw the rules of the bullshit treaty being demolished, but he couldn't stop it. He didn't know everything of course, Ludwig kept him well in the dark.

By this time, the Allies were getting moderately interested and extremely frustrated. They could not find the illegal cars, guns, ships, or planes, or prove that they were new.

And they could not dispute the Nazi party in Weimar because they had been elected in.

The very worst part was when Ludwig had a parade.

Down the streets of Berlin, marched ten wide by ten deep, platoons of…workers.

They wore uniforms, grey pants and jackets, with helmets and shining black boots. They bore the Nazi party insignia on their arms. Yet, instead of guns, they were armed with shovels.

This was not an army. They had no weapons. The Allies did not outlaw an organized work force.

Francis was getting nervous of this strong and newly remade, even powerful Germany growing. Only a small buffer zone of Rhineland stood between his country and the threat. Arthur was far less concerned being much farther away, and the most powerful nation at the moment.

Yet, maybe they should have shared Gil's great nervous worry. Gil could tell Ludwig was about to do something stupid and he had no way to possibly stop his brother.

Ludwig was wasting no time and taking full advantage of the Allies lack of suspicion and action. His first big aggressive action was next.

Ludwig had called Roderich to his offices in Berlin. The Austrian man had little clue what was going on as he sat in the luxurious office. Ludwig had turned the entire country around, and his office building moved to the center of Berlin. His new office was massive. The carpet was a deep red, the door and all wood in the room mahogany. His curtains were long, velvet, and red. The walls were white, but most of them were covered in maps and had bookcases against them. Also some of his party's posters boarded the room.

Ludwig sat on the other side of the large desk, in a high backed leather chair. He had a silver eagle at the front of his desk, obscuring his view of the sitting Austrian. Behind him to his right was an indoor flag post with the new German flag on it. It was red, with an offset sideways cross of black and white, in the center of that was a white circle with a swastika. The upper left corner was formed by the cross, and an Iron Cross sat in it. Directly behind his chair hung the Nazi banner, and to his left, the velvet covered window.

Ludwig himself wore a new uniform of black. His boots, pants, and jacket were black. He had silver officer's cords from his left shoulder to his jacket's buttons. His right bicep had the red arm band, and a police style hat sat on his head, casting a dark shadow over already grim features. Silver accented his hat, with a band on the brim where it met the hat, and a Nazi eagle in silver on the top. a leather belt ran across his hips, on the right he had a Luger, the left an ammo box. A strap for support ran from the right side up to his left shoulder. The lapels of the jacket bore silver markings, as did the buttons.

Overall, the poor and lean Ludwig with a haunted face was long since dead, only to be replaced with this familiar stranger. He was a built looking man, with strong and cold features, wearing the highest quality of clothes, in the wealthiest looking office Roderich had ever seen.

The men sat in silence for a few moments. Ludwig was staring out the window, with a bored expression. Minutes ticked by and finally the mildly annoyed elder nation finally spoke up. "Why am I here?"

A smug look sat on Ludwig's shadowed face. He wanted to establish an early dominance in the conversation over Roderich, and by making the Austrian address him, he felt he had done so.

Ludwig faced him and said "You are becoming one with my nation."

It was not an offer. It was not a suggestion. It was a pre-determined statement. Ludwig wasn't asking Roderich, he was telling him, which of course irked the other.

"I am not doing such a thing! What a foolish young boy you are, thinking you can just take another's land with a statement. Why, even you're pig-brained brother hasn't tried something so utterly moronic!"

Ludwig stood up very calmly and walked to the other side of the desk, slowly placing his hat on the table. Then he turned to the dark haired male and leaned down in his face, darting a hand out and firmly wrapping it around his neck, squeezing.

Roderich's eyes went wide and he frantically tried prying Ludwig's muscled arm and powerful hand off his neck.

Ludwig was indifferent and he went on. "If you enjoy breathing, I would suggest not arguing with me. You are a pitiful sub-human creature, and you are positively blessed to be in my very presence." His voice was even and calm. Three years had changed him, inside and out. He was different. He was stronger, smarter, crueler, and in his mind- better.

Roderich was now very purple and slowly stopping his struggling. At that point Ludwig let go of his neck and forcefully put him on his feet and pointed to the door. Roderich went to move but before he took a step, Ludwig's fist collided with the side of his face. By the cry of pain and grating sound, his jaw just broke. "Also, don't you dare compare me to my pitiful brother. I am ten times the man and nation that he ever was, or will be"

Roderich stumbled and held his face, but that wasn't it. Ludwig kicked him in the stomach with brutal force and sent him flying against the wall. Roderich hit the wall hard enough to drive all the air from his lungs, and shake the bookcase nearest to him. It also knocked the glasses off his face. He coughed and blood dripped from his mouth, straining his teeth red.

Ludwig wasn't finished. Again his fist struck, this time in the side; then again and again in the chest, followed by an uppercut, a knee in the stomach, then his nose to Ludwig's knee.

Finally Ludwig seemed satisfied, and he released the smaller and very bloody man, letting him drop to the floor. Ludwig crouched down and took his jaw in his hand.

"Austria is mine, are we clear?" he asked, his icy blue eyes staring at Roderich's bloody and disfigured face.

All Roderich could do was nod before passing out.

**Thanks for reading! Please follow, favorite, and review! Compliments, questions, and (nice) critiques welcomed **


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Ludwig thought about Roderich and the scene in his office only long enough to clean the blood off himself and have his men drag the unconscious body outside and leave him in the alley.

Ludwig spared just a second of his time to call one of his commanders and send him to Austria. He planned to either recruit or force the Austrian people into fighting for Germany. Either way, he needed reach into the newly annexed country to keep them under control.

The blond just carried on with business as usual now. The fact he brutally assaulted another man in his office was nothing, a happening in the past, a page in his new book.

Now he set his sights on a new target. He wanted the neighboring countries to be his. Prussia didn't count, he had already so many men loyal to him strutting around in a Prussian uniform the nation was virtually his already.

He wanted Poland and he wanted France, but he was sure that outwardly attacking either nation would start a war. Not that he didn't want war. No, war was exactly what he wanted.

But not yet. Not quite yet. This war would be played on his terms. He was in control. So, before he started, he wanted to make as big of a buffer around his country as he could before he started a big fight.

His sights were now set on Czechoslovakia, except this time he had a new strategy. The Allies were starting to get concerned, starting, but not enough to actually do anything yet. They didn't want another large war, they would do nearly anything to avoid one.

So Ludwig called for a meeting between him, Francis, and Arthur.

In a week both of the men sat in a conference hall, at a far too large table, in a massive room, with Ludwig sitting at the very end of the table, partially cloaked in darkness.

"You invaded Rhineland." Francis grumbled "That breaks our treaty."

Ludwig's lip twitched but his voice was impassive. "I invaded my own country."

Arthur glared a bit "You have an army, do you not?"

"Gentleman you've already had your temper tantrum over my work force. This isn't why I've so graciously invited you into my country." Ludwig replied, still calm as ever.

Both Arthur and Francis sighed and looked down at the dark wood table. This entire room was grand, spacious and ornately decorated with red banners and German flags, Nazi eagles, and posters. The room was similar to his office, only larger.

"What do you want?" Francis finally asked after a long pause.

Ludwig smirked and leaned forward, his elbows on the table, gloved hands in front of his face. His hat's brim obscured his face, so those glinting eyes and hard face were cast in shadows. Again he made an elder speak first. And this was in his nation. He already had dominance of this situation. Everything was going exactly as he had planned. Everything always did these days.

"I want Czechoslovakia." he replied

Both Arthur and Francis looked at his in disbelief. "You're mad if you think I'll consent to that!" Arthur yelled

Ludwig stood up and walked closer to them. "No Arthur. You will consent. Or otherwise, I'll be forced to take over that country and people are going to die."

Francis was now annoyed and concerned. He felt threatened both in person and with his country. "You don't have an army."

Ludwig smiled so chillingly Arthur had to suppress a shiver. This young boy who lost the Great War was now a man, and a cracked one it seemed.

"Of course I don't. But I could have one in an instant…so I would suggest you appease me. Give me what I want, and we won't have any problems…" Ludwig kept smiling at both the men, unnerving them both.

Neither Francis nor Arthur wanted to give in but what other choice did they have? Ludwig was clearly in control of this situation. It was like him asking for Czechoslovakia was just a formality, and he already had it.

Scowling darkly they gave in. Appeasement. Maybe Ludwig would be happy now, and maybe they could avoid a nasty war.

"Fine." Arthur said after quick whisperings with Francis.

Ludwig had a smug smirk on his face as he slipped the already written and authorized document to the men. Francis glared down at the paper, frustrated. Ludwig had known from the start he would get what he wanted. He was so utterly confident he would that he already had the paper. Just the audacity of the move boiled Arthur's and Francis's rage.

"While you have that pen, you can see I took the liberty to also void the Treaty of Versailles. I hope you don't mind." His voice was even and normal, but a taunting tone was close to surfacing.

Arthur signed first and then Francis. Ludwig watched the pen glide across the paper and he just smiled slowly. Maybe they had already realized it, or maybe not, but the truth was in this game he was the only player, and they were just his pieces, moving right where he wanted them.

Ludwig took the paper and dismissed the two Allies, and went out the door where his car was waiting. Just like all the officers, he had a variety of drivers. His assistant snapped at attention when he walked outside and opened the door for him, as the driver started up the engine of the black Mercedes.

He sat, set his case by his feet and leaned back. Soon he would be ready. Soon he would make his first bold move.

Meanwhile Gil was home. Home in Prussia, for it seemed he no longer had a home in Germany. He hadn't seen much of his brother at all, though he sent letters and telegrams, along with calling his office nearly every day.

Ludwig wanted war and revenge.

Gil just wanted his little brother.

He heard all the things Ludwig was doing. He heard about Austria and Czechoslovakia being taken by passive aggressive force. He watched the mobilization of his brother's nation. War was coming and he knew it. His own nation was going to war too, but not by his doing. It seemed that Ludwig's dark hand was everywhere around him. Ludwig had dared invade Prussia in such a clever way, not even the Lord of War had noticed it. And now, Prussia was going to war along with Germany, lead not by Gil, but by whatever puppet Ludwig had placed in power here.

Gil had to hand it to Ludwig. He had learned a lot from the Great War. He just had learned the wrong things.

Gil could run to his friends. He could hide and aid England and France and fight against his brother. But he wouldn't. He was a loyal man, and family always came first. Even if that family no longer loved you.

-September 1939-

Ludwig had one last thing to put in place before he started the real fun stuff. He invited Ivan to Berlin, had him taken care of. SS guard and a driver, a short tour of Berlin on the way to Ludwig's office.

Ludwig even greeted the tall Russian outside and personally walked him down the luxurious hallways. Ludwig wore his usual black uniform, but his hat was tucked under his arm.

"While I'm sure the Kremlin is far grander, I welcome you into my humble halls." Ludwig said with a pleasant smile. Flattery always was helpful for negotiations.

Ivan gave him a small nod and Ludwig opened the door to his office. He had two glasses and a high quality scotch on his desk. He walked to his side and remained standing. "Would you like a drink?"

Ivan declined and sat first, and then Ludwig did. He was using totally opposite tactics on Ivan than he did with anyone else. He wanted to appear submissive and polite, so he treated Ivan well and with respect. He stood until Ivan sat. He opened the doors. He spoke first, and it was no accident. He still held all the cards.

Ivan was visibly placated by Ludwig's actions and seemed at ease in the office. "What is it you called me for?"

"I plan on taking Poland tomorrow. I suspect that will be the final straw for England and France. Even though we stood on opposite sides last time, doesn't mean we need to be enemies again. Sign a truce with me?"

Ivan was watching Ludwig with intense eyes; often times his glare made lesser men squirm and avert their gaze. Yet Ludwig remained calm, his blue eyes never dropping.

"I will agree to this comrade, if I get half of Poland." a smug looked crossed the Russians face. He had heard about all Ludwig had done, but facing him now Ivan did not see a powerful or manipulative mastermind. He saw a smaller submissive nation. Clearly Ludwig feared the might of the USSR.

Ludwig looked down at his desk and seemed to deliberate for a few moments before he finally nodded. "Alright. Half of Poland if you do not attack me with the Allies."

Ivan nodded "You have a deal, comrade." He held his hand out first and shook Ludwig's hand. He, the great communist state, had control of this arrangement. Russia held a threat to Germany. Otherwise why would Ludwig need this truce?

Once they agreed, Ludwig drew up the paper and he signed it first. Ivan took it and returned the favor, then stood. Ludwig stood and led him outside, smiling and waving as the tall man got into the car was driven away by a Nazi driver.

Ludwig's smile got bigger as he walked back inside. Loosing half of Poland was in the cards. That was exactly what he wanted to happen. He would attack France after he held half of Poland. Once he pushed to the sea, he would turn around and hit Russia when he least expected it. With the element of surprise he should be able to take a good chunk of the country before anything got in his way.

He _let_ Ivan think he was in control, while in reality he was the master puppeteer, pulling the strings of the entire meeting. Ivan had played right into his hand.

This war was his game, the world his board, and the nations were all his pieces, moving and doing exactly what he wanted, when he wanted. After all, the best villains were the ones who could play and manipulate to perfection, and even when it seemed they lost control, in fact that was just a part of their plan.

**Chapter 3! Might update tomorrow.**

**So please follow, favorite, and review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4! Please enjoy!**

Chapter 4

The assault came together flawlessly, as he had planned all along. His tanks, planes, and soldiers moved in perfect unison. They were disciplined, they believed in their leader and their cause. Ludwig was convinced they would follow him anywhere.

And they would, or they would die.

Ludwig wasn't taking any of the bullshit he dealt with in the last war. No soldiers who wouldn't fight, no cowards or traitors this time around. Anyone who went against him would die, and that was how he would keep things running smoothly.

The Blitzkrieg on Poland started in the morning. The dawn of war.

Ludwig stood out on a hill that overlooked the town, his first victim.

The rising sun made the silver adornments of his black uniform sparkle, yet the innocent sun did not illuminate his cold face, that was still cast in shadows by his hat. A chilling smile crept across his face as he viewed the sleeping town.

Yesterday the inhabitants went to rest with nothing wrong. Today they would wake up to hell on earth.

He walked back to his commanders and gave a curt nod. "Start the engines. Get the soldiers in order."

The moment the words left his mouth his commanders bolted in different directions, shouting orders in rapid German. In moments the planes, hiding miles back were heard, and the sound of the twenty planes shook the earth.

The tanks hummed to life and rumbled for the town, followed right by the soldiers.

Ludwig watched through binoculars people run from their houses in terror. The planes screamed and bombs dropped. Giant craters of the earth were blown up, houses reduced to ash, body parts flying through the air like some awfully scripted horror movie.

The tanks launched missiles, adding to the damage. When the heavy assault stopped, the soldiers rushed into the town, their grey helmets gleaming in the bloody dawn, the guns shining and the hundreds of boots tramping.

It was the sound of hell, of terror for the townspeople.

For Ludwig, it was the sound of rightful revenge.

The soldiers killed anyone who tried to defend themselves. Ludwig didn't need to exterminate the town. He just needed to inflict fear so these people, when he marched past, would not rebel and attack him from behind. He needed to beat submission into them.

The tactic he used was something he had devised, and it had never been seen before. Lightening warfare, it translated to. It was upon the enemy like a storm, loud and disorienting, sending even disciplined armies into scattered confusion.

This was the dawn of the war. The morning of his new kingdom. This was the foundation to his great empire, the one that would surpass his brother and anyone who had been, or was yet to be.

In the same glorious manner, Poland fell. He was met with an actual armed resistance outside the capital, but what were they, some unprepared Poles against his master army?

They were dead, in case anyone wondered.

He had more planes bomb the insignificant capital, his soldiers swarmed the burning and destroyed town. Some died, but for every dead German there was at least forty dead Poles. The city had no chance, it never did.

So as he had known all along, Poland fell and his red flag flew over Warsaw.

And as he had known, that was the last thing he could get away with without a war. France and England had enough and they declared war.

They declared war the moment he wanted them too. And that was of course, a moment too late. He was sure both men thought they had declared war just in time. Oh he was sure the mighty British Empire felt totally in control. France probably felt that if they stepped in now, he would surrender.

It was cute how stupid they could be. He wasn't afraid of them; he had no respect for them. And they didn't know it yet, but soon…they too would fall like Poland.  
Ludwig marched through the streets after the battle. There were dead in the streets, flipped over burned out cars, and crumbling buildings. The street had craters in it that were still smoking. His soldiers had put out the biggest fires but some of the smaller ones still burned.

He smiled at the new flag that flew over the half destroyed capital building, and into that partly wrecked building he walked.

He had an old friend to see here. An irritating sassy Polish man named Feliks. Ludwig knew he would be hiding in Warsaw, vainly trying to save his country.

He walked boldly into the wreckage and wound through the left side of the building. It was smoky inside, the original color of the carpet was an undisguisable, as were the walls. It smelled of fire and dust. Patches of light streamed in form holes in the roof, parts of the stone walls were missing.

It was ugly, and this war torn mess was most likely an improvement from what the building was like before.

In a moment he found a blood trail leading to a door half blown off its hinges. He smirked and planted his left foot in the ground and kicked with his right, knocking it off the one hinge and sent it flying into the room.

He heard a faint whimper from the shadows. The room had one window, otherwise it was entirely dark. Book cases, desks, chairs, and glass littered the floor. Dust wafted through the air, making it thick to breath. Ludwig scowled as he prowled in.

He was the wolf at the world's door and he was about to make an example of this nation.

He found the blonde behind a table that was on its side. He yanked him up by his hair and threw him on the ground at his feet.

Feliks looked up to Ludwig, blood dripped from his nose. He had a hand over his chest, both his hand and his uniform were bloody. He knew in one glance we would not find mercy from Ludwig. The tall German had a sharp and cold look, his eyes burned with intense hate and his scowl was deeply condescending. Ludwig wore the look of a man looking down at a rat.

The look of a king looking down at a dirty peasant.

"So, you dared resist my attack swine?"

The far smaller Polish man wasn't going to lie down at Ludwig's feet. he spat blood at him, getting some on his shoes. "Go to hell."

Ludwig kicked him in the face, and something gave under his boot. Feliks howled as his jaw and cheek bone broke, yet his fierce green eyes burned with a sharper determination.

"I bet your big brother would be so proud." Feliks smirked arrogantly

Ludwig stomped on his chest, breaking a finger of the hand Feliks had holding his wound, and breaking several ribs. He reached down and held the man by his throat, glaring at with pure hate.

He said nothing for the moment, but rather took Feliks outside and threw him down the steps of the wrecked building.

He knew how to break the man's spirit, and a cruel way it would be. He pointed to the top of the building. "See the flag that flies? It's not yours. It will never again be yours. This flag will fly over every capital building in the world. You are just the first to fall. The weakest link in the chain always breaks first."

Before Feliks could argue anything Ludwig dropped down on a knee, crouching by him. "See, no one cares about you. Remember Ivan, your old friend? He wants you back…I get half of this disgusting country, he gets the other part. And you know what? I think I'll let Ivan have you…you got along so well in the past didn't you?" he laughed manically, his blue eyes alight with a demonic passion.

He smiled, a sick smile as he watched the blood run out of Feliks' face. The spirit dimmed in those green eyes, and when the light was gone, all that was left was a broken hopeless man.

A man broken in body, hopeless in heart, and terrified in mind. That was just what Ludwig desired. He had totally and utterly broken him, he robbed him of any fighting spirit. He had subdued him, and no more problems would arise from this stupid Pole.

Ludwig stood up, and gave him a sharp kick to knock him out and he left him there for Ivan to collect later.

The last thing Feliks was aware of was the sound of Ludwig's boots walking away, and the German flag flying were his once did. A single tear escaped his eyes as he passed out.

Meanwhile, sitting in his office in Prussia Gil felt his own heart break. His brother was out of control and spiraling deeper into madness. There came a point where madness was no longer a condition, but a part of a man. Gil feared that after this war…Ludwig would never again be the same. He feared that his darkness, this madness, was slipping from the German's mind into his heart and soul. And when that happened…nothing could be done.

Gil had a fit of anger and he stood up and kicked his chair over. He was chained in Prussia, doing useless things while Ludwig's Prussian puppets plunged the nation into war with the Nazis. His old friends were going to war; his old friends were being attacked. They were looking for him, the brave and reckless Lord of War. And here he was…watching, caged by oaths, etiquette and honor… things Ludwig knew Gil couldn't bring himself to break no matter how stupid.

Ludwig had broken Feliks in the most cruel and brilliant way possible. And he had thrown his brother into the most perfect and inescapable prison, inflicting him with the worst torture imaginable. He was brilliant and he was cunning, and he wasn't done yet.

He was taking Belgium on his march to his France. And France was going to be awfully fun to watch fall.

**Thanks for reading, Please follow, favorite, and review!**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

In May of 1940 Ludwig began his invasion of France. Poland was secure, his army had tripled in size of both man power and machines, and he had two allies of his own fighting in different sections of the world.

Of course when he had actually over run the globe, he would have to turn and destroy them. He wasn't going to share the world, it was his prize to win and no one else's. But he could use the help, well by help he meant he would exploit Japan and Italy for their men and machinery, and then wipe them off the face of the earth. His empire was in the making.

The idiot French thought he would take the same route through Belgium as he had in the first war. They had foolishly thrown their biggest defensive forces at the Belgian-French boarder, and Ludwig had just gone through lower Belgium, and went right into the southern half of France, blowing up about half of the Ardennes Forest. He met a detachment force off their main French forces, and they hardly stood a chance.

His army marched right over anyone who stood in its way, and they got took all of France in a mere six weeks. It was pitiful and shameful, even for the French.

He enjoyed watching Paris fall, the flag fell slowly and up went his. The people of France were wide eyed and terrified, his men were celebrating, rooming wherever they wanted, drinking and eating for free at the expense of the living civilians. Anyone who dared not serve a German solider, or tried to fight them were swiftly killed. After five or so deaths, the people bitterly behaved.

The only mistake he made in France was with the tiny part of their remaining forces. Ten thousand or so men were pinned against the sea and the larger mass of the army. Ludwig was letting them stay there, pinned. He wanted to get in their heads. He wanted them to worry about him bombing them in the dark, he wanted them to stress about a final assault at dawn.

He wanted them to worry and wither away, to starve and get ulcers from stress. He wanted them to suffer like he and his nation had for years, ever since the end of the Great War.

He thought that was pretty bitterly fair.

What he had not accounted for, was the British sending tons of ships in the dark, silently slipping to the beach and taking boatloads of the French to England. Navy ships, sail boats, and even tiny fisherman's schooners.

Ludwig fury at finding the campy empty at dawn was unparalleled to anything. His officers suffered the most, getting shouted at and hit, smacked around and kicked.

Yet there was some brightness to his day. Francis had rather foolishly not gone with the soldiers who went into England. A spy had found him hiding in the French country side.

Ludwig got into his car and with three others following him, he drove off. The French countryside was beautiful, rolling fields of green he had water with blood and fertilized with bodies. The air was crisp and fresh with smoke and gunpowder. He had to agree with the French here.

They did have a nice country. Make that had.

His cars surrounded the small shack that Francis was hiding in. He had brought along some man power, SS officers with their assault weapons.

His driver hastily got out and opened the door, and Ludwig stepped out, walking across the grass and to the door. He didn't knock it down, rather he knocked.

Francis was an older nation. He had fought many fights, won and lost them, had empires of greatness, and had ruins. But never had he ever met the barbarity of this Nazi army. He had never seen his brutality, this abuse, this raw power, that kind of undying respect from soldier to officer. Ludwig had built a master army, and he had barely slowed it down. Francis heard about Poland, he had already seen the cunning Ludwig had with his words.

He wasn't scared, he was totally and utterly petrified. A simple knock on the door shouldn't have been hair raising. He shouldn't be white and shaky, especially since he had a gun in his hands, and he had fought all a wolf at the door several times.

But this…it was something new, and gruesome.

Ludwig sighed and said loud enough for Francis to hear. "It's rude to not answer your door you know. And I even knocked." He sighed dramatically and stepped back and waved his hand.

And Francis cringed, he waited for that door to explode open, he gripped that gun tighter but…there was nothing. Dead silence. He heard the mice under the floorboards squeak and scurry, he heard the thunderous beating of his heart, and he felt every pump of blood. He just might die out of anticipation if Ludwig didn't knock that door down first.

But again, it didn't fall. Francis had never looked at a door more intently. He was looking at that door like it was the Fountain of Eldorado. He noticed every flaw of the wood, the rust flecks on the nails, the chips in the wood, the oil from the owner's finger tips.

He slowly became aware of something else. Smoke. A strong smell of smoke. It was getting hot, but he didn't noticed because he was so chilled. It took another moment for him to rip his eyes away from the door to see that the roof was on fire.

Francis swore loudly and cursed out Ludwig. This was just another sick game of the demented young boy. He was being a little brat. Ludwig told him it was rude to not open a door. Ludwig didn't kick the door down because he wanted Francis to open it still. It was another sick play of dominance.

Cruel but cunning. He wasn't going to be burned alive in here, and the roof looked like it was going to fall in soon. The fire was crept down the walls, the smoke was thick and the heat sweltering. Francis closed his eyes, just so frustrated.

First he lost his country, now he was coming to Ludwig like a dog went to his master. And he supposed that was exactly how Ludwig was viewing it. Francis was a dog to him. Slowly he took that first step towards the door. And slowly another. Finally he grasped the now burning hot metal handle and opened it, rushing into the clean air, his eyes burning. He coughed and stumbled, falling on his knees, crying out as his burnt palm hit the ground.

Ludwig walked over with a pompous stride. He didn't have to speak to break Francis. He had already succeeded in doing so with the house. He made him open that door. He made him come.

Francis had submitted. France had fallen. He was done here, and now it was time to move on. He would turn on England next. The Brit would suffer too. He was so close to taking over everything he had set out to take. He was looking to make that great world empire. He was by now, officially greater than his brother in his own mind. His name struck fear, and soon it would demand the same respect Prussia had.

He would never again shrink back into hos brothers shadow, he couldn't fall that far anymore. In the pages of history, now he would be remembered.

**so there is 5! Gilbert is going to be a bigger character now I think. So thanks for reading!**

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	6. Chapter 6

**Hey sorry I'm a little slow, but here is the update! Please note I have an exceptionally busy october and I may not updated as much as I would like. But I will, eventually, get to it. **

Chapter 6

Gilbert had had enough of Ludwig's manic actions. He was going to have a hard core heart to heart with his punk ass little brother. Gil didn't care how massive the Nazi empire was, he didn't care that world powers had fallen, he didn't care that he didn't even have control of his own damn country. He was going to rip Ludwig a new asshole and force some manners and tact back into that lost little boy.

That's all that Ludwig was to Gil right now; a lost little boy who really needed a lesson in manners. He had raised Ludwig well, he really had, he had taught him about duty and honor and he showed him the right way to live his life and govern his nation. Ludwig had been brought up to live by the knight's code, and this sure as hell was not anything that Gil had taught Ludwig.

Gil had to admit Ludwig got a shitty deal at the end of the war, he agreed but he did not sanction this kind of reaction. Ludwig was acting like a rejected teenage boy instead of handling his debt and anger like a grown man.

There was no way he could keep sitting idle, this monster that was ravaging Europe was his little brother- his very stupid little brother. Gilbert really didn't care what Ludwig thought. He knew there was a big rift, he was aware that he and Ludwig might not ever be close again. It broke his heart, and what he had to do next broke his heart even more.

He had to stop Ludwig, and if that meant he had to spy and send information to the Allies, so be it. He was trick Ludwig, he would steal papers, and he would uproot the entire Prussian government if he had too. He would ruin his own country, he would destroy his own life, and he would make an enemy out of his brother. That's how far Gil was willing to go to right this wrong, a wrong he felt partly responsible for.

On top of that, Gil was generally angry with the way he had been pinned in Prussia, and even more enraged when he had heard about what transpired in France.

Gil was already a bit of a trouble maker in Prussia as it was, he had refused to wear the new Nazi uniforms and he had also opposed the Germans using his Prussian Cross. His highest honor medal was not about to become the face and justification of slaughter.

Sick and tired of his brother, he broke his bonds of honor and he started a quiet revolution. He found real loyal men and set them up for promotions while sabotaging Ludwig's puppets. He also managed to break free, he left Prussia and he got into Germany with a train, then from there he walked through Berlin, knowing right where Ludwig's office would be.

He was shocked to see hat Berlin had become, even though it was the Nazis headquarters it certainly showed this was Nazi Germany, and he had to assume the rest of the country looked the same. Few people walked the streets, but soldiers patrolled them, which struck Gil as odd. Berlin wasn't an occupied city; it was a home city, why did Ludwig feel the need to police his own people?

It took him about a half hour to make it to Ludwig's offices in Berlin. Here he worried about being shot or arrested, so he opted to not walk in the front doors. Instead he walked around the back and kicked out a basement window, dropping into the basement of the building, which had no lights, about seventy years of dust, and two very old boilers.

Coughing a little and trying to not kick up much dust, the albino crept towards the crack of light signaling a door. He walked with great care up the stairs and slowly pried open the door, then stealthily shut the door and walked down the red carpeted hallway.

Gil paused there, standing at the end of the hallway. He knew where to go, he just didn't know if he wanted to go. If he took that step to the right and went through that door, he would come face to face with his little brother turned butcher. There would be no walking away, no turning his head again.

He would stare this demon in the face, fight it or die trying to stop it. He took a slow breath and lifted his foot, slowly putting it down and walking down to the first door on the right. Now there was no hesitation, he grasped that handle and forced the larger heavy door open and walked in.

Ludwig was behind his desk, his feet up on the desk, ankle crossed over the other. His hands were clasped across his black clothed chest, and his hat was tilted over his face. It appeared like he was sleeping, until a deep and chilling laugh echoed through the room. Ludwig moved slowly, putting his feet down, fixing his hat and then sitting forward.

"Well, it took you long enough." was the only thing he said.

Gil shivered- not in fear, in disgust. His younger brother was pretty far gone. He didn't think Ludwig was still in there, and that hurt him in ways no bullet could.

"I was a little busy." Gil finally replied.

Ludwig nodded, "Naturally."

Silence hung in the room, heavier than any fog. Honest red eyes met maniacal blue, young met old, love met hate. Ludwig had no feeling for his brother; Gil wasn't even worth the energy to stand up. Yet Gil came here with a fleeting hope of getting his brother back and derailing this war. Obviously that hope crashed and burned, just like he had known it would. Gil hated what he had become and what he was doing, but he still loved him.

"You know why Rome fell don't you?' Gil asked, breaking that silence.

"Because Rome was weak." Ludwig shot back without thinking

"No, because Rome was cocky, arrogant, abusive, and got too big." Gil growled, his temper flaring slightly.

Ludwig slowly rose up but Gil wasn't afraid. He would never be afraid. He had faced Death so many times, it didn't bother him anymore. He had seen destruction and evil before. Evil had many faces, unfortunately this time it was a familiar one.

"Why are you doing this Ludwig?" Gil asked, in a far more steady tone.

"It's none of your damn business." Ludwig snapped back, his eyes burning bright with madness

"I'm your brother Ludwig, I think it is my damn business! You've started a world war! You are destroying the world with this sick and twisted dream that isn't going to happen! You will never get world domination, it is unheard of, it is impossible! Grow the hell up, I raised you better than this!" He yelled his eyes sharp and a deep growl in his voice.

Ludwig walked across the room and got in his brothers face, scowling darkly. "I am not your brother anymore. never again will I hide in your pitiful shadow. You had a chance for greatness and you let it slip through your fingers. I saw a chance and I took it. I will be great, I will be remebred in the pages of history, my empire will cover the globe. It will surpass any in history and it will be greater than yours ever was. I will be greater than you. You will live in my shadow and you will live in the shadow of the mighty Third Reich. The Reich that will last a thousand years." Ludwig's speech was powerful and impassioned, he meant his words, he believed his words. He was hell bent on his sick and delusional dream.

Gil just shook his head in disappointment "You are on the edge of a great pit. Either you can repent and step back, or you can jump in."

Ludwig snarled "I'd rather jump in than ever stand at your side again."

Gil took a heavy breath, sighing and shaking his head, and steeping back. "You've made a mistake Luddy."

Ludwig's eye twitched with the old nickname but he left it alone and replied "We'll see about that."

Gil nodded "Yes, we will." He turned around and walked to the door, opening it and standing in the threshold. If he stepped out of this office it would make the loss of his brother all too real, and he wouldn't have time to get over it. He would have to jump into this war, and not at his brothers side. Gil closed his eyes tightly and squared his shoulders. "I love you Ludwig. Since you were a toddler, I've always been proud of you. I always was proud to be your brother, you were a great man. You did have the chance to be great, you threw it away. And yet the saddest part of this all…it's the fact I still love you, and I still will be waiting at the end of it all, because that's what brothers do. So, Auf Wierdesehen." Gil walked out and let the door close, and he didn't even look back as he walked out of that building.

Ludwig stood in the echoing silence. Thousands of times he had envisioned how his confrontation with Gil would go. He knew sooner or later Gil would come. His visions always included him dominating his brother with his games, beating Gil to a bloody pulp, arresting him, or even shooting him on the spot. But as soon as he saw that albino…he managed to look collected, but his gun never crossed his mind. He had thought about hitting his brother but it didn't happen. Word fighting, clumsy word fighting was not the new Ludwig's style.

The burning in his eyes was also not the new Ludwig's style. He scowled and fought back tears.

He could say he hated his brother; he could denounce the name and the lineage. He could go to war with his brother and his brother's friends. Words are a powerful thing, they can make a man cry, they can make him laugh. They can cut him down, or lift him up.

He could say whatever he wanted, but these tears held a testament.

The ones whom we hold the dearest, can hurt us the worst.

Ludwig could say he hated his brother, but somewhere in that blackened heart he still loved him. Somewhere unreachable, he cared. He wanted so much to deny it, but he couldn't because as mad as he was, even he couldn't refute the evidence. And perhaps that's what angered him even more.

These tears held a testament: those we love hurt us the worst.

**There's the brother angst I promised! Well, thanks for reading.**

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	7. Chapter 7

**Assume next tuesday or later will be the next update**

**Thanks for the reviews!**

Chapter 7

The next morning the two brothers did two very different things. Ludwig focused his attention on England, he wanted the nation to fall like the rest. He wanted the honor of doing what Gil and even Napoleon couldn't do- make England fall. It hadn't been conquered since before the Middle Ages, the stupid island wouldn't be a problem for him though. Ludwig had shoved the past day out of his mind. If he wanted to win this war he couldn't think about his brother. He wouldn't sat he loved him, he wouldn't say he hated him. Gil would just cease to exist all together. It was how it had to be.

Gil did things different. He slipped into Munich where the Nazi headquarters were. These men were just as lost as Ludwig, so he didn't bother attempting to sway them to his side. He just stole some plans and copied them, then slipped out. He didn't go to England, and he sure as hell didn't go to Russia. He just sat back and waited. England he knew was strong, he figured England would route the Nazis and maybe stop the tidal wave that was the German forces.

Ludwig spent a few months on this new attack. The stupid island nation presented problems of getting to obviously, and he did not have a navy to match that of England's, so he opted for planes. He blotted out the sun with them, he deafened and shook the coast, hundreds and hundreds of fighter planes and bombers flew over the channel and went to the heart of the country, London.

He bombed the life out of the country, everywhere there was wreckage. His attack was a little sloppy, he had equally as many losses as did the defending Brits. The fight raged on, and yet as eagerly as he watched, he didn't ever see his time come, his moment of victory was still just a reach away. He and England were in a deadlock, neither would come out on top.

Ludwig lost patience with it, he was used to for these past some years for nearly immediate success. So he stopped and broke the fight, and turned his attention to a different foe, the one who he had once been business partners with.

All the way at the eastern reach of his empire, he sat boarder to boarder with an uncomfortably large force, the USSR. It was now Russia's turn to feel some heat. He would attack, drive far into the frigid wasteland, and try and do what he had done to Poland. Move quickly as possible and take the capital before anything could be done. Even though Russia was mobilized, Ludwig was betting hard on his ego. The German army could easily destroy any Russians, and what did he care about the cold?

So he broke the peace he had with Russia and he stole their part of Poland, and he drove into White Russia and kept on pushing, ripping apart everything. Ludwig wasn't taking defeat this time, he would see his flag flying high over Moscow.

Gil watched bother these proceedings in silence. He knew Ludwig had done just what Rome had. Ludwig thought he was more powerful than he was, he let his ego take control. Gil had found Ludwig's newest fatal flaw; ego. Just like Napoleon, Ludwig thought he could take down the Russians, and didn't account for the vastness of the empire and the coldness of the winter.

Gil hated it too, but this was something he could exploit. This new madman Ludwig didn't have love or fear to hold him back, the chink in his armor wasn't any empathy, it was pure brazen foolishness.

It didn't take very long for Ludwig to see he had fucked up pretty bad. America joined the fight, England and France renewed theirs with vigor, and Russia had now sided with the Allies. He had a double fronted war and both sides were pushing in.

Gil wished he could say that was the last of the mistakes, but it seemed Ludwig's ego and idiocy had no limit. He had put fortifications at different beaches on the French coast line, ones facing the Atlantic. He really shouldn't have bothered with how feeble they really were. His strongest defense was at the top of France, where the English Channel was the narrowest. He had figured that with the poor weather and the close proximity that would be where the English and French would greet their new American partners and attack.

If being wrong wasn't bad enough, Ludwig had organized a party. The shifting points of the war apparently hadn't started to worry him yet.

Ludwig wasn't worried, he still had a false sense of control. His mind games that he played on others was starting to subconsciously play on itself. He was blinding and manipulating himself into thinking he had control, when his plane was in a literal nose dive with the engine on fire.

So what could possibly be a better time than now to invite all his high ranking officers away from the fronts to drink and have the war games?

His fight with his brother had no effect on him, he wanted to say. His fight with Gil did bother him, and subconsciously he knew the games were a bad idea, but they offered a distraction at least.

In the time Ludwig did that, Gil had anonymously sent the reports he had stolen to England. These had depicted the drawing of the armed beaches and the dates of the war games. He hoped Arthur had gotten them and planned his attack accordingly.

This would be a major point of this war. Russia pushing in, America joining would mean nothing if the Allies attacking through the Channel. Ludwig could repel that attack easy and eat through the numbers of the Allies.

But if Arthur did attack at the other point, then there was a high chance that Ludwig's flimsy defenses at the Atlantic would fall with only a few casualties, and the Allies would rip into the French mainland.

Gilbert even on his very worst day wouldn't dream about gambling like that, really only Ludwig was crazy enough to think that was a solid plan.

As Ludwig went to his games and Gil sat and watched, history told her tragic tale. The beaches of France were the pages, blood was her ink, and forever would those words of that day haunt the world.

Ludwig's poor defenses were not all so poor. They were strong enough to have caused some casualties on the invading side. Hundreds and thousands of soldiers stormed all the beaches Ludwig thought they wouldn't. The weather was poor, the seas choppy, and they didn't even touch the Channel.

News that France was being invaded shocked Ludwig, he didn't really know what to do. This was the first time in this entire war that he did not have full control. This war was meant to be played on his terms, things were to happen when he wanted and only then. Everything had been perfect, he had anticipated everything correctly until now.

Gil would have reacted, he would have known what to do. Ludwig scowled at the thought. He was better than his brother, he could figure this out too. His empire was greater than Gil's and he was smarter, braver, and far more cunning than his stupid, scrawny, freakish albino brother.

He talked a big talk, and once upon a time his bark had a bite- but this was not then, this was now. He had lost control, he didn't know how to get it back, and he was still trying to convince himself otherwise.

Needless to say, the Allies won that battle. They suffered losses, but in the end they had triumphed. They had a solid hold on France, and from there they could push into the heart of the Nazi empire.

Arthur was pleased with himself. He was sick of Ludwig acting like a master mind. True he had been struck in awe of the change, and he had to admit Ludwig had perfectly staged their meeting long ago. Yet still, Ludwig was young. His empire was nothing compared to those of the past, and he was a brazen fool. Young as he was, he couldn't have seen the fatal flaws of every large empire. They got greedy and over confident. Arthur had risen and fallen, he knew. Gil had warned him it would happen and yet he still pressed on. Arthur felt that made Ludwig all the more idiotic; he had the lesson right in front of him and he had ignored it. He felt like Ludwig deserved whatever happened next. H Ludwig tried to act like he knew everything, and he didn't, and now he would pay dearly for that mistake.

The war spiraled out of control rather rapidly, with the Allies pushing in on two fronts, moral being down, and Ludwig's mentality cracking. He did one stupid thing after the next and still claimed he had everything under control.

Then it hit him like a train. Reality was rude, it was abrupt, and it slapped him in the face and took him back to real life.

His front was back to about where he was started four years ago and the Allies hadn't given up yet.

His ambitions, his dreams, his revenge, his glory…he had had it, he held it for a fleeting moment. For a single second he stood atop the word and nothing, nothing could go wrong.

Then in an instant his paper throne collapsed, his hand slipped, his ego was no safety net- it was gasoline to the fire. His safety net had always been his brother, and he had lost that.

The only thing to catch himself was the cold hard ground. He was alone now to pick up whatever he had left of his army and rally them on their own soil for one last battle. One final attempt to avoid total and utter destruction.

And Ludwig had no hope of winning left. His delusion had faded and he was only left with the bleak reality. Here he stood in Berlin, his very own people against him, half his army against him or dead.

Here he stood in Berlin where it had all began.

Here he stood in Berlin, ready to face the end.

**Thanks for reading and please follow, favorite, and review!**

**Also im a dork and I got really excited about the last two lines and how they fit...did you like them?**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Ludwig walked down the bombed streets of Berlin like a zombie. His face was dazed, his hair was messy, his uniform was dusty and his gloves and hat were missing. His army had fallen, his capital was a bombed out ruin.

He had been shot in the stomach in the fighting, his uniform had a hole and was bloody, but he didn't care. The battle was a hazy blur better forgotten than remembered.

The madness had all faded out, the darkness had receded and all that was left behind was a broken shell of a man, too numb to care, to broken to go on.

He kept walking down the streets. Buildings were smoking, cars were upturned, some fires burned in small spots. It was hauntingly similar to what Poland had looked like just five years ago.

This was it, this was his end. The Allies would surely kill him, and his brother would not be there to save him this time. He walked without a purpose, with one destination in mind. He walked to his capital building. The great white stone building had once been impressive, now it was crumbling and grey with smoke and fire. He trod through those great halls, the red carpet covered in dust, the walls cracked, and the pictures that hung on the walls were gone, burned, or slashed. With heavy feet he walked those familiar strange halls, up a broken staircase to the rooftop.

From the roof he could view all of Berlin. Five years ago this town was alive and bustling. He had dragged the nation out of deficit, he had repaired the country economically and boosted the moral.

Five years later he had destroy all that progress and even moved them back. He was the one who plunged them into depression, he was the one who robbed people of their homes, of their dreams, of their family.

Why? He wondered. Why would he have done all that? The reasoning seemed so stupid when he looked back on it. Was a little land and some childish bullying worth this? He knew how impassioned he was. He knew how much it had mattered…but it just didn't seem worth it now.

His friends, his brother, his country, and his life were all prices he had been willing to pay five years ago. Now, staring at the end, this war seemed worth none of that. His passion, his drive, his frenzy were all bred from immaturity and an ego trip.

Now, he regretted it. Now he wanted to apologize, he wanted his big brother. God he wanted his brother.

His blue eyes stung, and it was not from the smoke of his burning city.

He had been mad, corrupt, insane, brutal, and he had earned this ending. History was there for him to see; he should have known this was a poor idea. He had always been a smart man, he had always been reserved, and he had made the stupidest mistake possible. Anger and ego were two vices that were known to topple solid empires and destroy good men. Gil was a better man and had a better empire because he had never been so foolish. Gil had known the faults of large empires and ego. Gil had tried to teach Ludwig that, but dreams of glory had clouded his judgment.

What was left to do now? The mess he had created was sprawled before him and it spread farther than he could possibly see. He had not raised an empire on Europe- he had only watered her fields with blood.

He had not built a Reich to last a thousand years. He did not make an empire to surpass his brother, yet alone any other. Surely any land he had gained he would lose. Any power or prestige he had inherited he would be robbed of, and rightfully so. His name would not be respected; his empire would not be remembered. He had succeeded in one thing. He had made sure his name was stained into the pages of history. He would always be remembered as the evil man who brought war to the world.

He should have known better. He should have played this game smarter. He thought he held the strings, he had always felt in control, but in reality Lady Fate was the master puppeteer and he was just another puppet.

He had fed off the madness, and so the madness had fed off him- and the madness always wins.

There was no saving this, there was no apologizing or making this better. A year ago he would have let his madness blind him to the reality of the situation but not anymore.

This was the end. This was where it had started, and this was where it would end.

With a hard swallow and a shaking hand he moved his right hand to grip the handle of his Luger, and even slower he pulled the gun out of the holster.

Starting down at Berlin he saw so much more than he had ever seen. He saw the brilliance of the sun, he felt the soft caress of the wind across his face, and he saw a dove flying from its nest on the roof into the sky. A symbol of peace in the wreckage of war.

He felt every ridge on his gun, the rough metal grip shifting in his hand, and the cold trigger that he brushed his finger tip to.

He smiled sadly, his heart was broken, his end was here and he had no tear to spare.

See there are two types of anger, one is dry and one is wet. Wet anger involves tears, its more frustration than rage. It stems from everything going wrong and the end never seeming achievable, wet anger is sobbing uncontrollably because you just are too far invested emotionally. Wet anger is for people with something to loose, for someone who hasn't given up.

Dry anger is more defeat than anything else. Dry anger is shaking and glaring, with a sharp face and unforgiving eyes. Dry anger is for someone who has dealt with so much bullshit they don't feel anymore. Dry anger is for someone who has no more tears left to spare. Dry anger is for someone who has given up.

And he had given up.

The war was over. Over again and he had lost. That was it, that was the story.

He closed his eyes tightly and shifted his finger towards the trigger. The barrel of the gun was cold to his temple, his breath stilled but his heart raced.

This was what had to be done. He had to pay the ultimate price for his sins. This was how his story would end. He had written the carnage, he had orchestrated the death, he had broken bonds and he had shoved his brother away.

He had started here with pretty words and a sly smirk. He would end here with a screaming silence and one final, definite bang.

He squeezed his eyes and started the squeeze the trigger, when something broke the heavy silence, something that was not a bang.

"LUDWIG!" Gil shouted, tripping over the rubble and racing towards his little brother.

Ludwig turned around and ever so slowly lowered his gun. He didn't know what to feel. He was moments from death when the brother that he had turned on, came back.

Gil had come back. His savior had come just in time. His brother was still there, when he knew the entire world was against him.

It all broke like a dam. He dropped to his knees and Gil dropped down, fiercely hugging his little brother. The gun was tossed across the roof, both of Gil's arm strongly encircled Ludwig, and Ludwig found himself hugging back.

Gil had come to Berlin to find his brother and Ludwig couldn't believe it. He had thought he had ruined it. He had thought he was alone.

Just like that, Ludwig found a tear; first one, and then many. He sobbed against his elder brother's chest like a little boy. His rough hands clung to Gil's shirt and he wouldn't let go. His chest heaved and he muttered incoherent phrases that added up to a mix of 'I'm sorry" and "I love you"

Gil just rubbed his back and held him, whispering softly to. Telling him it was ok, that together it would get better.

Ludwig had found a tear, because he had found something to loose. His great big brother, with his endless love and loyalty. His big brother, the best brother in the world, which was something he would refuse to ever loose.

After a long while Ludwig picked his head up slowly and looked at Gil. He had no words to say, he couldn't think of anything. After everything he had done, his brother had come to save him from himself. The love Gil held for Ludwig was something Ludwig was ashamed of for not cherishing more.

"Why would you come back…you see this mess. Berlin has fallen. I lost again. The Allies will want so much from me…"

Gil smiled a little and stood up, pulling his brother to his feet. "I see a country that needs fixing. I see a boy who needs help. I see a little brother who needs his big brother…that's why I came back. You need me, and I have promised to always be there when you need me."

Ludwig leaned against Gil, the two of them shuffling to the stairs. Five years ago he had held the deepest loathing for his albino. Five years ago he would have shot Gil on the spot. His rage was so infinite he would have truly thrown away the only thing that had mattered.

As Gil got him down the stairs and into the streets, Ludwig found a smile.

Here he had come to Berlin ready to face the end. He had been ready to kill himself- he had thought he had met the end.

He did find an end. He found the end of his madness, and he had found a new beginning.

He had ended an old story and he was moving on. He had a new start, he had a new story, a new beginning.

Here he was in Berlin, side by side with his dear brother, moving past the end.

Here he was in Berlin, side by side with his dear brother, ready for a new beginning.

**The End**

**Note: I wanted to have Ludwig die when I first started this chapter. A tragic end to a tragic story. A happy ending I thought, wouldn't fit.**

**But then I realized while writing, he should live. He could get better. Yeah, it would take work, and it would be hard and long, but it would get better. The ruins of his life would be rebuilt. **

**Sometimes people get to a point where they have dealt with all they can, and their life is so out of control all they can hope for is the end. And that's not the answer. Ludwig was going to blow his brains out, and his brother would have missed him. Someone will miss you.**

**You will miss a new, brighter story. **

**If you're ever so down like that, please realize that there is more. Start a new story. The end is where you write it so don't end a good story too soon. **

**That's all, thank you for reading! Please comment! Did you like this ending? What was your favorite part, was this a good ending? **


End file.
